Unsung Hero
by Michi Shojo
Summary: Part two of Idria's story: Immortalized, Idria existed as little more than a guardian of Mirkwood. But one day, she leaves to attend the party of an old friend, and somehow finds herself partaking in another adventure, becoming part of a Fellowship trying to save Middle-Earth. As she travels, she sees the world anew. After forgetting for so long, is it possible to love?
1. Chapter 1

Invitation

Stooping down, she examined the large patch of web at the base of a tree. The lack of dust on it showed her that it had been made recently. She cursed, the spiders of Mirkwood had never come so close to her home before. Standing up, her left hand went back to her sword, a gesture she often repeated during the day to assure herself it was still there. After a deep breath and a moment to think, she went off in the way of the webs, hoping she would find the spiders soon. She'd been travelling after them for two days now, the webs becoming more frequent and she guessed she was close to their nest. After a while, she had found that the spiders rarely lived alone, preferring to live in a large group, and hunt together. But it only took one to hunt them down. Starting to jog, she twisted her body to avoid the webs that were rapidly appearing as she got further into the nest. It wasn't as large as some she had seen before, she guessed that perhaps ten spiders had made their home there. Finally, when the webs grew too thick for her to move quickly past them, she slowed down, taking one step at a time.

After a few more minutes, she saw the first of the spiders, their grotesque bodies bulging, as if they'd just eaten. They moved more slowly than usual, which she found disappointing, it was less of a challenge to deal with them that way. Before attacking, she watched for a minute, trying to see how many there were. She counted seven, but it was hard to be certain. Kneeling down, her hand moved from the hilt of her sword towards a stone on the ground. It was a little small to fit well in her palm, but she picked it up and drew her hand back. Swinging it forward, the pebble flew from her hand. She'd been aiming for a gap between two trees, but her aim was a little off and struck the trunk of a tree. It achieved the same effect though, the _clack! _sound it produced made every spider turn and rush forward, whispering. There were eight of them, she had missed one up in the tree above her. Sure she could handle the eight of them, she pulled the sword from her scabbard and ran forward.

Before they noticed her, she had already cut one of the spiders down, leaving its abdomen twitching as it bled out from the stab in its underside. Then the others turned to her and shrieked,

"Whiteblade!" was the name they had given her, after the white diamond weapon she wielded. It was often the last things the spiders saw, after it cleaved them in two. Anger made her swing the sword faster, for she despised the twisted mockery of the human language that they spoke. A few moments later, another two lay dead and a third was twitching as her sword embedded itself in its skull. Then the others had surrounded her, dropping their foul webs in an attempt to trap her. The white sword flashed in the dim light and she parted the web as easily as silk, it had been enchanted by the elves a while ago, in an attempt to give her an advantage over the creatures. They shrieked and she pressed her attack. She had learned long time ago to attack their legs when they were in great number. Their two strengths were their speed and their venom. Once she stopped their movement, and stayed out of the way of their stingers, the spiders could do no damage. The battle was a quick one, lasting no more than a few minutes. One spider gave her trouble when it decided to flee, but after a short sprint she removed the legs on its left side one by one, as she caught up to it. It fell, screaming, as blood poured and it writhed in the dirt. Knowing that it would not live much longer, she left it twisting among the leaves.

Wiping the blood from her sword with a cloth she kept folded through her belt, she walked back towards her home. The journey would take her perhaps three days, for she was in no hurry to get back, and chose not to dash through the trees as she had when pursuing the spiders. Her sword clean, she returned the weapon to its sheath and the cloth to her belt. That night she bathed in one of the rivers that ran through Mirkwood, savouring the cold touch of the water on her skin. Then, after a meal of nuts and a few berries she found, as well as one of the black squirrels that had been caught in one of her snares, she fell asleep.

Two days later, during early evening, she arrived back at her house. It was a tall tree with three round rooms, each on top of each other, and a cellar among the roots. A kitchen, a library and a bedroom. Enough for one person to live well, especially with the amount of wine she had in the cellar, as well as a few small barrels of ale she had traded for with the men that lived in the forest. So it was strange to see the two horses grazing outside of her house, both of them different shades of grey. One was smoke, the other was silver. Both were saddled and packed as if ready for a short journey.

It wasn't completely uncommon, she was friends with the elves of Mirkwood, and one would visit her every few months, often with a gift. They were good to her, allowing her to live in the forest. Idria Oakheart was what they called her, the Guardian of Mirkwood. Removing the cloak, she entered her home, smiling, unsurprised, at the pair of elves sat at her table. Between them rested an open bottle of wine, three goblets, one full, one empty and one half-empty. The first elf she knew quite well, his name was Legolas, the prince of the forest, son of Thranduil. He had long white hair and sharp blue eyes as clear as ice. The other was a closer friend, an elf by the name of Thirnen. He had light brown hair which he kept short, green eyes and the pointiest ears she'd ever seen on an elf. She nodded her head at the two,

"Make yourself at home." She said sarcastically. Legolas sat up straight, his hand around the goblet full of wine, it didn't look as if he'd drunk any. Thirnen lifted his own goblet into the air in a toast, his voice clear even in his drunken stupor.

"Come join us! The night is young and there is drink to be had!" His laugh was light and seemed to cast away any other feelings than happiness. She sat and retorted,

"Only if you haven't drunk it all already!" Then she filled her own goblet, raising it to knock against his, and then took a swallow. Holding it out to Legolas with a questioning look, he raised his own and smiled, the two connected and she took a second, longer draught. "What brings you here?" She asked, setting the wine down, briefly seeing her reflection in the dark liquid and realising she should soon change.

"A letter." The elf prince said, holding it out to her. Recognising the handwriting, she still inquired,

"From Bilbo?"

"Probably, it was delivered by a man who said a short little fellow asked him to get it to us." Smiling, she took it and opened it, breaking the neat wax seal. Bilbo had written to her a few times over the years, and she back. It was difficult; the only way to send a letter was to give it to someone passing through Mirkwood, which did not happen often. But when it did, Idria would always help them get through, keeping them alive in exchange for news and small favours. She had almost become a figure of legend or mystery, the Witch of the Wood was what smallfolk called her, she had learned. Thankfully, the letter was only addressed to Idria Oakheart, and it was indeed from Bilbo.

"There's to be a party." She said, "His 111th birthday… I'm invited."

"The Shire? That could take a few months to get to. When is the party?"

"In four months' time." She trailed off and did some calculations; she would get there in time if she left within the next few days. But to leave the forest… she had not done that for… she could not quite remember. If Bilbo had been fifty at the time of the quest they had been on together, that meant… sixty years. She suddenly felt sad, her gaze once again travelling to the dark liquid in her goblet as she saw her reflection. Appearing no more than five and twenty, she was in reality, over eighty years of age. She sighed, then took a long draught. Thirnen had done the same calculations as her, though it took him longer in his state,

"You should leave tomorrow, then you'd get there in time. But not tonight, tonight is for drinking and making merry! Come, drink." It was as if he'd read her thoughts and tried to lift them. Elves truly were the most perceptive of all the races. She nodded and smiled at him,

"Then let us hope the night shall not end! _Seasamin._" She finished with the elvish for _My pleasure. _She had learned a little over the years, though not enough to speak fluently. Of course, she could still understand a conversation perfectly; somehow she had a gift for understanding languages as easily as breathing or walking.

They spoke and laughed into the night, Thirnen even bursting into song several times, his voice as sweet as nectar in a flower.

The next morning, she woke in her bed, her head aching. She rubbed her eyes and sighed, then swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. In a few minutes, she had washed herself and dressed in her usual kind of clothes. Boots up to her knee, brown britches, a light brown shirt with long sleeves and a leather jerkin the colour of red earth. She no longer wore her cloak; the bloodstains on it never seemed to wash out, even when they were impossible to see. It carried too many memories; she had burned the cloak but kept the copper brooch that had fastened it. Wearing the brooch that was shaped like an oak leaf above her left breast, above her heart, it was a strange parody of her name. Over the years, the brown of her eyes had sharpened, giving her a stare that could have made even the strongest of men shiver. Her hair had lightened, turning from the colour of freshly-turned earth to the lighter brown colour of a deer's pelt. It was longer than it had been before, it brushed her waist when it was loose, and tumbled over her shoulders in waves. Quickly and deftly, she twisted it into it's customary braid, so that it fell between her shoulder blades and would not get in the way. Satisfied that she was ready for travel, she packed a small leather bag with things she would need for the journey. Her tinder-box, a skinning knife and a whetstone to sharpen it, dried meats and berries that had been stored away, a waterskin, rope (She was a firm believer in being prepared for anything) and clean linen that could serve as bandages, should she need them. The last item was a purse of dwarvish gold, a thing from a quest long ago, but never forgotten.

When she left her home, after a breakfast of more berries and salted fish she had caught from one of the rivers, she saw that both of the horses were still there. Both had empty saddles, but she heard Thirnen's laugh and he approached from the trees,

"Come, mount up. I'll accompany you to the edge of the forest." She wasn't surprised he had decided to do that, once or twice they had hunted together. She was better than him at catching fish, though he loved to show that he could best her in swordplay and he could wield a bow. It was impossible for her, her right hand had never been useable since she had once taken an arrow through it, she could not even grasp a bow.

Shaking her head, she pulled herself onto the silver coloured horse. She had not ridden much, and not at all for the past fifty years, and the silver seemed smaller and more sure footed to her. And so, with Thirnen at her side, she rode through the forest. Sometimes they followed the old elvish road, the one she had taken when she travelled on her last quest, but most of the time they stayed in the trees. She knew the forest well enough to not get lost, despite the sheer size of it.

Within a fortnight, they had reached the borders of the forest, where Thirnen and her parted. Since they had spoken together during the trip, all that needed to be said had already been said. Simply, she just spoke a word in elvish,

"_Namaarie." _Farewell. He responded in the same tongue, a goodbye he taunted her with, for she did not know enough of the language to speak it herself, though she understood it perfectly well.

"_Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle." _

May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back. She raised her hand in a wave as she rode off, without turning. I was strange to leave the forest. The light was brighter and she was aware of the vast expanse of space ahead… the world ahead. The wind was warmer outside of the forest and the scents were lighter. The only sound was the gentle thump of the silvers hooves on the ground, as she began to gallop towards the misty mountains. It wasn't until she finally stopped that she realised she was no longer under any enchantment, she felt no different, but until she returned to the forest, she had her mortal life back.

Because she would return, she was going there and back again… the road would take her home.

She did not know the road was not that simple. Nor did she know that the home at the end of the road may not be the same home she left behind.

**/ If the references in this story about her past do not make sense, then you should know that this is the second part of Idria's tale. The first is based during The Hobbit. And you may want to read it, as some of this story will refer back to it, and it'll help you gain a clearer understanding of her and her motivations.**

**Anyway, I plan to release the first few chapters of this story this year, and if it is well received, I shall continue it in 2015. **


	2. Chapter 2

The Shire

Having a horse made her travel much faster, so Idria arrived early to the Shire. When she reached the Misty Mountains, It should have only taken a month, perhaps a week or two longer, to cross, but it took her two. She had little idea how to travel over the mountains; by no means would she use the goblins tunnel to get through, as she once had. Eventually, she found a weathered path that snaked upwards, and followed it into the mountains.

She stumbled across Rivendell. The elves were as merry as she remembered, and she was welcome there. Yet she stayed for only a week in the houses of Elrond, wishing to depart for Bilbo's party as soon as possible. Whilst she was there, Elrond made her tell her tale in full, from her point of view, for she had seen things differently to Bilbo or Gandalf. (For example, she had fought and been caught by the trolls. She had been captured by the spiders and had ridden inside a barrel) She also sought out a familiar face, the left-handed elf that had discovered she too was left-handed. After finding him, she thanked him with a bow and a single piece of dwarvish gold. It was gold that she had brought back from the Lonely Mountain with her, and she had brought a pouch of it with her as she journeyed west. The elves provided a guide for her, and she was able to get through the mountains without further troubles.

Alone but for her horse, she rode through the wild. Idria followed the main road, the one she had taken when travelling in the opposite direction with Thorin and his company. She realised that this was the area that Thorin had found her in… there was a slight chance she could have been from here. But she could recall nothing of her life before the quest, not where her home was or what her family might have been called, or even if they were alive. It was probably better that way, for not a day went by that Thorin's, Fili's and Kili's deaths were unremembered. Every day, she remembered the silence and suddenness in which Kili had fallen, his brothers tears and the gasp he made when she cut his throat. And Thorin, she remembered him the most, the way she had stayed by his side every day until his death, holding his hand and hearing his words. To know that, and deal with the fate of her home too, would be unbearable. She liked her life the way it was, she did not have to worry about anyone but herself, she lived the way she wanted. She was happy… she was fine.

The four months were nearly at an end by the time she reached the shire. The woods of the wild gave way and she approached the wide fields of green. The houses were just as Bilbo once described them, small things that led into the side of the hill they were in, with a bright round door and a few small windows. There were Hobbits too, and they all seemed very cautious of her. None would speak to her, and many would shy away as she approached. So she walked in front of her horse, hoping that she would appear less intimidating when she was not towering quite as high above them. Recalling that the Hobbits rarely saw 'big people', she knew that her presence may worry them. She resolved not to give them reason to distrust her. Walking onwards, she followed a path, but did not know which way Bilbo's house was, she did not know where he lived. So she approached a single hobbit, out weeding his garden,

"Excuse me." She said, kneeling by his fence so she could be at eye level with him, "Do you know where Bilbo Baggins lives?" even though Idria tried to sound friendly, the Hobbit stepped backwards until he found his door, shaking his head all the way. Then he went inside and left her alone in the path. She sighed, dusting herself down as she rose, and began to walk again.

A few minutes later, she heard laughter and a group of even smaller Hobbits ran out in front of her, playing some sort of game. She guessed they were hobbit children, and once they saw her, their mouths fell and they stopped. Trying again, she spoke softly, kneeling down once more,

"Do any of you know where Bilbo Baggins lives?" Two of the children ran off, but three stayed. One was a girl with huge eyes the colour of the sky, she nodded her head and pointed towards a path that led west from where Idria kneeled. The other two children, both boys, looked at each other before one spoke,

"'Scuse me miss, who are you?" She smiled,

"My name is Idria, I'm from the east." His eyes widened and he said to the other hobbit,

"Derry, it's the one from the stories Bilbo used to tell! She's here!" She tilted her head, it seemed they knew of her, at least a little. The other child, Derry, spoke to her,

"Miss Idria, are you the one that went with Bilbo to kill the dragon?" Nodding she said,

"Yes, though it was a long time ago." They seemed to be in disbelief, but they ran to her and one took her hand,

"This way Miss Idria! We'll take you." And for some reason they laughed, and she joined them.

"Thank you." And they led her down paths; she stopped over to accommodate their height as they pulled her along. At one point, the younger girl held her arms out, so Idria picked her up and set her on her shoulders. It didn't take much longer to get to Bilbo's home, the children stopped and pointed at a large looking home with a bright yellow door. A sign hung from the gate, No admittance except on party business. Letting the girl down, she tied her silver horse to the inside of the fence and smiled at the children. Then she reached into the pouch at her waist and withdrew three golden coins, giving one to each of the children. "For your trouble." She said, before they ran off and she approached the door.

Knocking three times, she waited for an answer. It came a minute later,

"Mundo, I told you! I'll see to it later, I'm in the middle of something important!" The voice was unmistakably Bilbo's, and she laughed,

"More important than me?" His face appeared at the window for a second, and then the door was flung open,

"Idria! Forgive me, I wasn't expecting you so soon!" She knelt and hugged him, never quite knowing how much she'd missed him until she saw him in that moment. They would have spoken right then, but there was the sound of footsteps outside and Bilbo pulled her inside.

"Quick, quick!" He shut the door and stayed out of the way of the windows; he winked and said, "I'm not at home." So she spent time looking round. She was tall, even for a human woman, and the house felt small. Even at its highest, the ceiling was never quite high enough for her to stand comfortably. But despite the size, it was comforting. Warm and bright, a fire burned in the hearth and the furniture was soft and comfortable. She was shocked at the sight of Bilbo, sixty years had passed since she had seen him, yet he had not aged a day. It was as if he was under an enchantment similar to her own, but that was impossible. There was still a week until his party, which she spent speaking with him and his nephew Frodo, helping with the party arrangements, and she finished making the birthday presents for him and his nephew (For Frodo's birthday was on the same day.)

When the day of the party finally came, she presented them with their gifts. To Frodo, she gave a necklace of coloured stones she had collected from Mirkwood over the years. Each had been polished and threaded onto a leather rope. It wasn't the prettiest thing, but she had made it with her own two hands, and much effort had gone into its making, so he found no fault in it.

As she knew Bilbo a little better, the gift she gave him was more personal. It was a figure the size of her hand. It was shaped like one of the spiders from Mirkwood. She had made it by whittling the rough shape of a spider out of many pieces of wood, sticking them together and covering them with the actual hides of the spiders she had killed. The eyes were tiny glass beads, and though the seams between two different patches of skin were visible, she was proud of her handiwork. He thanked her and put it on his desk, before the three of them left for the party.

At first, the hobbits were still wary of her. But then the three children she had met earlier approached and made her tell the story of her adventure. When she had finished, she was surprised to see a much larger crowd had gathered to listen, perhaps thirty hobbits. They treated her a little better after that, and then much better once they began to drink. Wine, ale and mead flowed faster than water, and the food on offer was good and plenty. Idria learned their way of life. They loved to eat, drink, smoke and laugh. They knew how to appreciate the world around them, something that no other race, not even elves, had truly mastered. Later in the night, she joined the Hobbits as they danced, they were seemingly unaware of her presence, either that or they didn't mind her. Clumsily, she tried to mimic their movements, and when part of the dance made them join up with another dancer, a large hobbit with a red face took her arm and guided her through the steps as she tried not to trip.

Gandalf was there too, she had not had time to speak to him properly before. She gave him a smile from across the group of people she danced with, and he returned it with a laugh. The new dance she was a part of involved changing partners every minute or so, and at one point it brought the two of them together. It was good to finally move without stooping or taking smaller steps, for Gandalf was even taller than her. He spoke to her briefly,

"It is good to see you again after such a long time, how is life treating you?" She almost had to shout to be heard over the wild music,

"Better. I no longer feel like filling the rivers with blood." It was only half a joke.

"That is good, I feel like I may have need of you soon." She furrowed her brow,

"How do you mean?"

"I mean that you may have a part to play at a future time."

"What?!" She called, but the dance took them apart and it took her a few minutes to free herself from it, though she could not find the wizard afterwards. Confused, she eventually decided he was joking with her, he had probably been drinking before and not fully aware of what he was saying.

She went back to Bilbo's house early, deciding not to stick around for the rest of the party. So when Bilbo entered less than an hour later, it surprised her.

"What are you doing here?" She said, making him jump. His hand went to his chest and he sighed,

"Nothing more, I'm leaving."

"Leaving?! Where are you going?" He looked out of the window,

"On a holiday, maybe I'll go see the elves." She had an idea and considered it for a minute, then she asked him,

"I'm travelling east soon, we could go together." He smiled,

"Kind of like the last time?"

"Yeah, I guess. We could leave tomorrow."

"No!" He exclaimed, before calming down a little, "I've been ready to leave for a while now. I can't take another moment! Let's go!" She nodded, just as Gandalf walked in. Bilbo nodded at her, "Go and get ready, I'll join you outside in a moment." Packing her few things, she took them outside and attached them to the horse. And even though it took longer than he had said, Bilbo joined her outside within the hour. After a few words, the two of them set off, side by side. Slowing her pace, she matched her long strides with Bilbo's smaller steps. She led her horse at a walk, and the silver made no noise other than the sound of hooves on the path. A warm wind blew and made her braid sway in the air, strands of hair coming loose to float around her face. The only sounds that echoed around the dark Shire were the hooves of her horse, and the constant tap of Bilbo's walking stick.

It accompanied them throughout the night, and no-one saw them leave.


	3. Chapter 3

_/__**Unlike the first story, which is based mostly on the book The Hobbit, this second story will largely be based on the films The Lord Of The Rings. So rather than the time between Bilbo's departure and Frodo's quest being a period of many years as it is in the book, it will be weeks, as shown in the films. I do this because the films are simpler, less detailed than the books. If I wrote a fanfiction based on the books, it would be a hell of a tale, and I'll leave that to Tolkien. **_

Rivendell

They arrived at the houses of Elrond after spending a long while walking through the woods. Idria decided that she would stay there awhile, a couple of months, half a year. Some part of her was ready for home, but another part of her wanted to stay. This was a place of memory, and a place of calm, with no equal on the earth. She spent her days with Bilbo, he would make up songs or poems, sharing them with her as he strove to perfect them. Even though she tried to help, she knew little of songs and lacked a creative aspect necessary to make them. Mostly, she left it to Bilbo and the elves, their tongues were articulate and each answer they gave was as perfect as if they had had the last hundred years to formulate their answers. The company was good, but Idria felt stifled sometimes, during the feasts and parties that the elves threw. She much preferred the quiet room she had been given, the same one she had stayed in when she had first visited Rivendell. It overlooked a waterfall in the valley, and a stone courtyard where she had once practiced to fight with her sword. Smiling weakly as she recalled how bad she had been at it, she paced the balcony.

After a few weeks, she was much more comfortable. Her sword was left in her room most days, as she felt no need to carry it with her constantly. Her hair was unbound most of the time, falling down her back in a brown waterfall. She even decided to forgo her boots and tread the halls of rivendell barefoot, feeling the stone beneath her. She stayed for a while, savouring the peace and tranquillity. In that time, she got two requests. The first was from Elrond, the lord of Rivendell. He approached one evening, standing beside her on the balcony, and though she was tall, she still had to look up at him.

"I am calling a council, it is to take place at the end of the week, I would appreciate if you would attend."  
>"A council? What for?" His hands rested on the stone balcony and he leaned forward, looking at the valley below,<p>

"A shadow begins to fall across this land, and it is up to the other races to deal with it, my people are leaving these shores." She shook her head,

"What is it?" He smiled,

"I cannot say yet, for I do not know all of the details. But I believe you may know a few of them." She was confused, but it didn't show on her face, instead she asked,

"What kind of details?"

"Something about a ring that you may have come across on your last adventure." It took her a minute, but she vaguely remembered the ring that made the wearer invisible…

"Bilbo's ring?" She said suddenly, recalling how he used it to free them from an elvish dungeon, once. He nodded slowly,

"It may be more than he thinks it is, and could be closely tied to the fate of middle earth."

"What? But it's a ring."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Then he left her staring out over the courtyard, watching as night fell. Then a shadow on horseback emerged from the night, upon it sat a female elf who she knew as Arwen. She carried a small person, and Idria realised the only person that small would have to be a hobbit.

The next day, she went with Bilbo to visit the hobbit. It turned out that he was Bilbo's own nephew, Frodo. He possessed the ring that Elrond had spoken about, the one that Bilbo had found sixty years ago, when they'd journeyed east. Something had wounded him, though she understood little of it. They spoke of ringwraiths, nazgul, and a dark lord. She had never heard of anything like it, and assumed it was nothing to fear. Most likely, some sellsword had poisoned his blade that wounded Frodo, and was the reason for his sickness.

The second request that came to her was of lesser importance in the grand scheme of things, but important to whom asked it of her. It was Bilbo, he sat by her one day and they spoke, he said,

"Idria, would you help me?"

"With what?"

"I've been writing a song-" She cut him off before he finished,

"No, I don't know the best word to rhyme with 'river' or 'joy' so don't even ask." He laughed,

"Let me finish, I was saying, I've been writing a song. A duet to be more precise, I need a female part for the other half, I plan to sing it the day before the council."

"No." She said, "I won't sing. Get one of the elves to do it, their voices are sweet enough." He nudged her,

"Come on, the part's based on you, it wouldn't be right if you didn't perform it." Her head turned sharply and she glared,

"Me? How is it?" He laughed,

"It's called _The Dwarf and The Lady_." As she frowned, he handed her a paper with the words of the song written on it in his thin writing. Reading it through, her scowl disappeared, she saw the humour in the lyrics and understood how the fair voice of an elf would be imperfect in the harmony. She read it again, deciding the tune of it wouldn't be bad, Bilbo knew how to write, after all. So she sighed once before saying,

"I'll sing your song, but you owe me in the future." He nodded,

"Of course, of course!" And he spent the next few hours teaching her the tune, as well as making a few changes to the words so they best suited her mouth. He said that it didn't matter how great the words were if they were strange on the tongue. And after a few alterations, they were able to sing the duet together, ready for the feast the next day.

When the next day came around, she spent the first part of it training with her sword in the courtyard. First, she practiced with the elves, but once midday arrived, two men joined her. She didn't speak to them at first, in all the years of her life, she had communicated with humans the least. Even though she was one, she felt disjointed from their race. The two men, however, approached her after watching her for a moment. The first introduced himself as Aragorn, and she had heard of him fleetingly, as he sometimes lived within Rivendell. His hair was dark, he stood as tall as her and nearly as slim. The second smiled, though she guessed it was more a gesture of acknowledgement than friendliness.

"Boromir, son of Denethor, the Lord and Steward of Gondor." He introduced himself. His titles meant little to her and she cared even less for them. Even so, she responded in turn, dipping her head, he'd like that,

"Idria Oakheart, Guardian of the Greenwood." His eyebrow raised,

"The woods witch?" She was silent for a moment, one of the few people she had guided through Greenwood in her time had been bound for Gondor, she thought. She nodded,

"Aye, some call me that."

"I always imagined you'd be…" He trailed off, searching for the right word whilst she stared, waiting, "Older." He finally finished, she shot him a look. Then she turned back to her training, ignoring the two men, it was only when another voice called out to her that she turned,

"Just because it's in your name it doesn't mean you have to have such a hard heart!" Her eyes darted toward the source of the voice, and she blinked in surprise when she saw its owner.

"Thirnen!" She shouted, the elf stepping to her side and did what he always did when he annoyed her, patting her head as if she were some kind of oversized dog. She pulled away, but couldn't stop herself smiling, "What are you doing here?" she asked him, and he shrugged.

"Ask him, he's the one who insisted I come!" and Thirnen pointed off to where another elf stood, Legolas, the prince of Greenwood. She smiled at him as he walked forward,

"I was sent to attend the council here tomorrow, and I thought it would be good for Thirnen to come and join you on the way home." She nodded,

"That would be… great. Thank you." He nodded in turn and then shifted his attention to the two men, Aragorn and Boromir. Once introductions had been completed, she sparred a little with Legolas, and once he left to attend to other matters, she trained with Thirnen. He even insisted the two men joined in, and soon other elves joined and there was some sort of melee going on amongst them all. It was nothing like a battle, of course, but reminded her of one all the same.

Another hour passed before she left them, evening was coming and she wished to change out of her stained tunic and boots she used for sparring in. It was the night of the feast, she was supposed to perform with Bilbo. Freshly washed and clothed in an elvish dress, she walked through the halls into the large one where the feast took place. It was well lit inside, filled with laughing elves, the hobbits that had journeyed there, and even a few men and dwarves. Other than Bilbo, no-one seemed to note her arrival. She took the nearest empty seat to him, by the side of the man from earlier, Boromir, and an empty seat on her left. After nodding a greeting, she remained quiet, preferring to listen to the feast than partake in it just yet. Once the ale and wine flowed and the noise was even merrier, Bilbo beckoned to her and she knew it was time. She'd memorised the words perfectly, though the thought of delivering them gave her a last moment of doubt. Shaking it off as she ascended a small platform, just high enough that Bilbo was tall enough to see over the tops of standing people.

He called for silence, and received a lull in the noise, as quiet as he was like to get. He didn't say much, just told them he was going to perform one of his songs, then began to sing. It happened suddenly, her mind went blank for a second before she found her place and prepared to sing. _The Lady and The Dwarf _was sung a verse each, one for Bilbo, then one for her.

As she sung, she found herself giving slight sways in time to the music. Her voice was far from the best, and could never match the lilting tones of the elves, but it possessed an honest tone that could have made the saddest song bring a smile to the face. Before she knew it, her last verse was over and the song finished.

She trailed off and gave a small smile, before stepping down and making her way back to her seat. Compliments washed over her for a few minutes, and she responded automatically. But afterward, she was a little more relaxed and enjoyed the feast before going to sleep late in the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Council

She awoke on a much larger bed, sunlight pouring through a window high in the stone wall. Sitting up, she blinked a few times in the glare, before her eyes adjusted to see a figure in the light. He approached and her breath caught in her throat,

"Thorin…" She whispered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, he smiled at her,

"My lady, you're awake." She smiled and brushed her hair back behind her shoulders, He stood before her and took her hands, in her dreams she was always able to use both of her hands. He spoke again, "What did you dream?"

"That I was far away… I dreamed that I was alone."

"You never have to be alone My Lady, I'm here." She smiled and kissed him,

"And don't ever leave." He laughed and pulled her back down onto the bed, she fell with him. He lay down and she climbed atop him, pinning his hands by his head and leaning down to kiss him again. Then her hands slid down and pulled at his shirt, unbuttoning it and opening it. Then her hands touched something wet. She lifted her palms to see what it was, and her laugh died on her lips. Crimson blood glistened on her hands. She gasped and looked at Thorin. His skin was greying and growing cold, except for the hot blood that flowed from the hole in his chest. His hands encircled her wrists and she was pulled down close to his face, tears of blood began to fall from her eyes. His voice was a rasp,

"You promised!" He began to cough, and his breath was as cold as a tomb, "You promised you'd protect me!" She screamed and tore her hands from his grasp, falling from the bed and onto the stone floor. His body rose, the hole in his chest much larger now, and his chest misshapen, as if the bones in his body were suddenly too large for his skin.

"No!" She screamed, stumbling backwards, away from the man she'd once loved. His own voice surrounded her, pulling her down into darkness,

"You Lied!"

She woke properly the second time, gasping for breath and clawing at the sheets across her body. The weak light of the rising sun was not yet enough to warm the room she was in, and the light it cast was faint. Despite the rest, she felt exhausted, as if she'd run leagues without a breath of air. As the nightmare began to recede, it still cast a shadow over her head and she felt cold. When her breath calmed at last she dressed, took her sword and left the room. The sun seemed pale in the morning, both the land and her heart shadowed in the dimness.

_I don't think today shall be a good day… _

She was the last to arrive at the council, and it had already begun. She sat between Thirnen and a dwarf, listening to bits and pieces of the meeting, never quite paying full attention for a while. She was asked nothing, merely listened to the others speak of the ring that Frodo had brought to Rivendell. As the story dragged on and the full extent of the ring's power was revealed, apparently it did more than turn the wearer invisible. The ring was brought forward and she was one of the few who did not lean forward to see it clearly. A plain golden band, something about it drew the eye, but she had seen dozens of prettier or grander trinkets.

"It must be returned to the fires of Mount Doom." Elronds voice announced, cutting through her distraction, though no one noticed she hadn't been paying attention. Her attention wavered easily, habit forcing her to focus on the secondary sounds, instincts searching for a threat. She had never quite realized before that she had become so much of a hunter. The sound of the waterfalls unnerved her, they masked too much, she could barely hear the footsteps of horses and singing of elves beneath it…

Shaking her head, she fought to focus again,

"Why not use this ring?" The man, Boromir, was saying. In an attempt to anchor herself in the meeting, she answered,

"Can you not see? This ring will not help you, if what we've just been told is true… it will corrupt the hearts of men. You cannot wield it." He raised an eyebrow,

"You say that as if we are so different. You are human too; your heart is no different from mine."

_That's impossible… parts of mine are missing._

"I have no intention of using this ring, I care little for your fight with Mordor." He stood up quickly, and she rose too, her hand travelling to the hilt of her sword,

"You fool! Your lands are kept safe by the blood of my people! You owe us your allegiance." Her lips pulled back in an expression of distaste, especially when she saw the way he stared at the ring.

"Enough!" Elrond said, raising his voice at the both of them, she sat quickly after that, with a nod of her head. Boromir stood for a moment more before sinking back into his chair. Then Legolas spoke,

"Boromir, your family is no more than stewards for the throne. The people owe their allegiance to Isildur's heir." Boromir frowned,

"And where is he? He turned from that path long ago."

"_Leave it, Legolas._" Someone spoke in elvish, she turned her head to see the ranger had spoken. The way he said it… as if the argument had affected him. She remembered reading a little about the kings of Gondor, and remembered that the current heir was gone… choosing to ignore his calling. Her eyebrows raised as she realized what it meant,

"It's you." She said, and it wasn't a question, "You're no ranger." He looked back at her and gave a tiny shrug,

"I am now."

"Aragorn? Who are you really?"

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He said, though the exact name meant little to her, she recognised it from something she'd once read. Legolas cut in,

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Boromir looked uncomfortable, and when the other man did not respond, Elrond spoke again, taking them back to the original conversation about the ring. And soon they disagreed with each other, she recognised the old dislike between the elves and the dwarfs. The men were also distrustful of elves, apart from Aragorn, and she herself felt uncomfortable with men. The debate became an argument, everyone shouting over the other to make themselves heard. She shot a glance up at Thirnen, but the tall elf had stopped to shout something at Gandalf.

"I will take it!" A small voice cried next to her, and she looked down to see the hobbit, Frodo, standing up. No-one else heard, and he shouted again, "I will take it!" Though this cry went unheard too, he gave her a quick look, and she found herself smiling. Then she opened her mouth,

"SHUT UP." She shouted, her voice erupted forth and the others fell silent. Then a dwarf laughed,

"Speak a little louder, lass. There's orcs in Mordor that didn't quite hear you." Ignoring it, she turned back toward Frodo and he repeated,

"I will take the ring to Mordor." Everyone looked at him, and the doubt in the air was palpable. As if he sensed that, he said, "Though, I do not know the way."

"I will help you." Someone said, coming forward, and she was unsurprised to see it was Gandalf. He placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder. They made an unlikely duo, and it must have persuaded some others to help.

"If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will." Aragorn spoke, before coming to stand beside Gandalf, "You have my sword." Legolas stepped forward too,

"And you have my bow." Then the dwarf that had laughed at her joined them,

"And my axe." Even Boromir stepped forward, and then there was a shout, as three more hobbits ran from where they had been hiding nearby, and they scurried forward.

"We're coming too!" one shouted, and so the three of them joined the group, she noted how their presence made Frodo smile. It was surprising to see the four of them so eager to go, when she knew that hobbits particularly preferred to stay rooted at home, never going on adventures or doing anything unexpected. But it wasn't as surprising as what happened next.

"I will go with you too." A voice said, and when she tried to see who it came from, she realized it was her voice she had heard. Her feet carried her to their side before she knew what she was doing and she suddenly knew that she wanted to. She smiled then,

"I was with Bilbo when he first acquired this ring… I'd like to see how this tale ends. It's something I have to do." Elrond smiled at her and spoke,

"The same reason you used over sixty years ago, when you left on another quest with a different company." She looked down at the ground as she recalled those memories,

"Yes." She finally said, quietly, "Perhaps this one will end a little better."

"Better? The dragon was killed and the city rebuilt. It couldn't have gone better."

_But the three dwarfs supposed to see that happen were dead. They died before that quest was finished. They never… They never truly returned home._

"That's what they keep telling me." She sighed, then stood a little taller and tried to cast off her doubt. Remaining quiet throughout the plans, Idria once again paid attention to the sounds of Rivendell. Finally, the meeting ended with the words,

"You will leave tomorrow."


End file.
